


You Make My Dreams Come True

by lynnearlington



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnearlington/pseuds/lynnearlington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana learned the hard way not to wish too hard for things. There’s this repeating track of I love him, too in her head no matter how many dates she goes on with Brittany, so she can’t help it if part of her is waiting for the other shoe to drop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make My Dreams Come True

**Author's Note:**

> Vague spoilers for 3x04

It’s a piece of poster board in the back of her closet behind a dusty Halloween costume from when she was eleven. It’s pink. There are blue feathers pasted haphazardly across the edges, swirls of glitter and My Little Pony stickers all over it. It hasn’t been looked at it in nearly seven years. 

It’s a wish board. 

Santana’s named is scrawled across the bottom of it in black marker, the edges of the letters uneven from the shaky concentration of a ten year old. Next to it is Brittany’s name, but no one apart from Santana can tell. To anyone else it just looks like incomprehensible scratch, but it was how Brittany signed her name in the fifth grade, more a drawing than actual letters. 

At seventeen, Santana pulls the forgotten poster board out of the closet and traces her fingers over the signature with a smile. She’d probably have never remembered the thing if Brittany hadn’t been going on and on about this wish thing for the last few days. 

There’s nothing particularly insightful on it. The wishes have about as much foresight as one can have at the age of ten, but there’s one at the bottom that Santana remembers writing with distinct clarity despite the casual way it was scribbled. 

_be with britt forever,_ it reads. 

“Like  _forever_ forever?” Brittany had asked as Santana wrote. 

“Well yeah,” Santana had answered as if it were simple. She can still remember the way Brittany smiled widely at that before grabbing the marker out of Santana’s hand. 

There’s a smiley face next to Santana’s scrawl, added by Brittany along with the deep red hearts drawn around a barely legible  _me too._

At ten, it had seemed like no hard feat to accomplish. At seventeen, her heart aches from impossible want for it. 

In her left hand is a crumpled up receipt from BreadstiX. The total at the bottom is $37.64 and Santana’s pretty sure it’s the best money she’s ever spent. With careful fingers she tapes the receipt to the bottom of the poster board between a picture of ‘Nsync and Simba and smiles at the last item.  _Shrimp cocktail $7.99._

Santana learned the hard way not to wish too hard for things. There’s this repeating track of  _I love him, too_ in her head no matter how many dates she goes on with Brittany, so she can’t help it if part of her is waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

She lies in bed and stares at the wish board across the room, barely visible in the darkness. Maybe she’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t make new wishes. No harm in resurrecting some old classics. 

\--

“You wanna go to a movie later?” Santana asks as they walk towards her car after school. She’s embarrassingly relieved that  _you wanna marry me?_ didn’t come out of her mouth instead. 

They don’t really show this part in the movies - what happens  _after_ you get the girl but  _before_ you live happily ever after - so Santana’s a little lost. She never really thought she’d even ever get here. Up until their date a few nights ago when Santana finally asked the question that had been plaguing her for weeks, she wasn’t even sure she  _had_ gotten here. 

“Like a date?” Brittany’s arm is threaded through her own, her face turned towards Santana with an earnest expression. 

There’s this warmth low in her gut, and a calm certainty in her heart as she smiles and says, “Yeah, like a date.” 

Brittany’s mouth tightens like she’s holding back a big grin before asking, “What movie?” 

Santana shrugs, slinging her bag into the backseat of her car and waiting for Brittany to do the same before slamming it shut. “I don’t know, any movie.” 

“Lady and the Tramp? Ever since our date last week I’ve been dying to watch it.” 

They climb into the car and Santana laughs as she turns the ignition. “That’s not in the theaters, Britt.” 

Santana’s right hand drops to the gear shift as she pulls out of the parking lot, steering with her left, and she almost crashes when Brittany’s hand drops over hers, fingers tangling. Handholding isn’t something they do that often. They link pinkies, they link arms, they hug and they kiss and they fuck and they do a plethora of other things, but for whatever reason handholding was just never one of them. 

Brittany’s staring at her when Santana looks over, and she can see the significance float between them. 

“You wanna just go home and watch something in my room?” Brittany suggests, voice low. 

There’s no television in Brittany’s room, no way for them to actually do any of that, but Brittany’s palm is hot against the top of Santana’s hand and she doesn’t hesitate before answering. “Totally.” 

\--

They get to Brittany’s house and Santana’s feels that familiar ache of anticipation in her gut. Brittany’s fingers stay tangled in her own and she lets herself get tugged to the front door and inside. They’re on a quick path to Brittany’s bedroom, but as they pass the living room Santana halts, pulling Brittany to a stop to stare at the empty couch and silent TV. 

Brittany moves closer and looks between Santana’s face and the living room. “What’s wrong?” 

Brittany’s free hand is playing with the hem of Santana’s uniform top distractingly, and most of Santana wants to put her hands on bare skin, push Brittany into a mattress and dive into the only thing that’s ever really made her feel good. Except she’s staring at this couch, thinking about every stupid romantic movie she’s ever seen and suddenly wants nothing more than to  _not_ have sex. 

“Let’s watch down here,” Santana says after a few seconds, walking them to the couch. 

“Santana,” Brittany starts, voice soft and confused. “I thought...” Brittany’s gesturing towards the staircase. 

“We will,” Santana says, answering a question Brittany hadn’t vocalized, but Santana heard nonetheless. 

She sits down on the couch and drops her arm across the back of it, gesturing at the empty cushion next to her and smiling when Brittany settles against her.

They click the television on, Brittany channel surfing for a few minutes before settling on some reality TV marathon on MTV. It’s companionable and familiar and everything Santana loves about just being with Brittany. If she could, she’d bottle the feeling just so she could never be without it. 

Long moments pass, Brittany laughing ever so often at something on the television, but Santana’s not really paying attention to what’s going on. She would be, but there are more fascinating things to watch. 

Brittany’s gorgeous, has always been gorgeous, so it’s not really Santana’s fault that she keeps turning her head to stare. There’s this soft smile playing on Brittany’s lips that only deepens when Santana runs her fingers up the nape of a neck. Blonde hair tumbles down when Santana pulls her ponytail out, and Brittany leans into the touch, humming appreciatively, eyes fluttering closed as Santana runs her fingers through strands of long hair. 

“You’re pretty,” drops out of Santana’s mouth before she can stop it. 

Brittany turns to her with an unreadable expression, her eyes a warm blue. “You too,” she says softly, blinking slowly and lips curling up a little at the edges. 

There’s tension between them that Santana doesn’t ever remember feeling before. It’s not  _bad_ , just new. Normally, Santana wouldn’t hesitate in moving forward, pushing Brittany back against the arm of the couch and pressing their lips together. In fact  _normally_ , they wouldn’t even be on the couch right now. They’d be panting against each other, hands gripping desperately in the pastel colored sheets of Brittany’s bed as they raced towards orgasms. 

But Santana kind of likes this careful hesitation that’s bubbled up between. She kind of likes that she’s thinking about kissing Brittany instead of just doing it. It  _feels_  like dating more than anything else has. 

“You have an eyelash,” Brittany says softly. 

Santana quirks an eyebrow up, but doesn’t say anything else. 

A long finger reaches out to swipe against the skin under Santana’s eye. “Eyelash,” Brittany whispers, finger hovering in front of Santana’s mouth. “Make a wish.” 

Hundreds of images flash through her mind. She sees Brittany mouthing three little words against Santana’s lips, she sees a hand reaching for hers in the hallway at school, she sees graduation, college, Brittany standing in the empty living room of a new apartment, the same blonde hair spread over the pillow next to hers every night, a big diamond ring she can’t afford and screaming children she never thought she’d ever want. 

Forcing herself to hold on to just one image, to the one more reachable than the others, she smiles crookedly and blows warm air across Brittany’s fingers until the little black eyelash floats off. 

“What’d you wish for?” 

“Secret,” Santana whispers, licking her lips. 

“Think it’ll come true?” Brittany’s hand is sliding over Santana’s thigh, the side of her mouth quirking up. 

She’s surprised to find she’s not even lying when she answers, “I gotta good feeling about it.” 

“Hope it was a good one then.” 

She bites her lips, laughs softly at Brittany’s grin and closes the distance between them. “It was.” 

\--

Dating Brittany feels a lot like it did when she wasn’t dating Brittany, but she supposes that’s just how it is when you start dating someone you already spend nearly every waking moment with and have been sleeping with for the past two years. 

So it’s the little things that remind her that no matter how familiar it all feels something significant  _has_  changed. 

Math is Santana’s favorite class. It’s the only one where she and Brittany sit in the very back of the classroom, and it’s the easiest subject in school. 

Brittany doesn’t pay attention to class at all, but it’s fine because Santana pays enough attention for the both of them. Plus, Brittany  _does_  pay attention to Santana and that’s not something she’d ever put a stop to. 

Santana’s right arm lies outstretched over the table while her left hand scribbles down algebra problems in her notebook. Ever so often she glances over to find Brittany looking at her with this smile on her face that Santana’d do anything to keep there forever. 

Halfway through class she feels Brittany’s hand curl around her arm and pull it towards her. She quirks an eyebrow in question, but doesn’t say anything as Brittany draws a small black heart on the tanned skin of Santana’s wrist. Blue eyes flick up to hers and Santana wonders if this is what it’s like for everyone. If falling in love means never being able to breathe properly again. 

After glancing around the room to make sure no one is watching, Santana puts her lips against the skin of Brittany’s shoulder, pressing a quick kiss there, mouth curled into a smile. 

“You wanna hang out later?” Brittany whispers, hot breath beating against the shell of Santana’s ear. 

Santana gives her the best  _duh_  expression in her arsenal, and softly says, “My house.” 

Brittany’s smile is warm, but the expression in her eyes is hot and it suddenly feels like there’s not enough air in the room. 

Her arm is being tugged again, and she looks down to see Brittany drawing something on the palm of Santana’s hand. When Brittany finishes and moves so Santana can see, heat pricks the back of her eyes as they take in the carefully written  _I love you_  on her skin. She closes her palm tightly and looks into smiling blue eyes. 

A year ago Santana didn’t really know how to be happy, and now, with Brittany’s foot tucking around Santana’s ankle, she doesn’t know how to be anything else. It’s liberating and terrifying all at once. 

\--

Brittany sees their old wish board the moment she walks into Santana’s room, and practically skips over to it, hands clapping in surprised joy. “Oh my god, our wish board!” 

Santana hums affirmatively over a soft chuckle and parks on the bed, rolling her head around her neck and yawning. She pulls her hair out of its tight ponytail, and shakes it out while Brittany keeps inspecting the board. 

“I didn’t know you still had this.” 

“Neither did I,” Santana responds. She watches Brittany run her fingers reverently over the blue feathers at the top of the board, a small smile on her lips. “Britt, leave that. Come over on the bed with me.” 

“I like wishes,” Brittany says as she strides towards the bed and climbs onto the mattress. 

“I know.” 

Brittany crawls towards Santana on her knees, throwing her leg over Santana’s until her knees are bracketing Santana’s hips. “We should make a new wish board.” 

“I don’t have any poster board.” Her answer is distracted, but it’s not her fault she’s preoccupied with running her palms up Brittany’s legs. 

“Make one any way.” 

Santana laughs, sits up a little and lets her hands slide around to Brittany’s ass, pulling them closer together. She looks up into bright blue eyes. “How?” 

“What do you wish for?” 

“Right now?” 

Brittany nods, arms twining around Santana’s neck. 

“I wish...,” she presses a kiss to the underside of Brittany’s jaw. “I wish you would kiss me.” 

Hands grab her cheeks and Brittany does just that, smiling against Santana's mouth as they rock back and forth into the kiss. 

“You go,” Santana whispers, pecking against soft lips. 

“I wish you would take your top off.” 

Santana laughs, but she pulls back enough to unzip her uniform top and chuck it towards the floor, takes her bra off too for good measure. “You too,” she murmurs, kissing Brittany again. 

“You have to say the words.” Brittany shoves her in the shoulder a little, but doesn’t stop kissing her. 

“I wish you would take yours off too,” she manages to get out, only rolling her eyes a little. 

Moments later, Santana’s running her palms up the bare skin of Brittany’s back, eyes fixating on the black fabric covering Brittany’s chest. Brittany arches her back a little towards Santana as she strips her bra off, flinging it towards their discarded tops on the floor. 

“I didn’t wish for that,” Santana says wryly, hands moving to palm newly uncovered breasts.

“Yeah you did,” Brittany says with a knowing smile and a wink. 

Brittany arches forward again when Santana rolls a nipple between her thumb and index finger on her left hand and lets her right hand slide to Brittany’s back. “Your turn,” Santana mumbles, bringing her mouth forward to Brittany’s chest. 

“I wish you’d keep doing that.” A hand clutches into Santana’s hair, pulling her closer. 

“So not a problem.” 

Wrapping her arm more firmly around Brittany’s back, Santana pushes forward and rolls them down on the bed until she’s fitting herself between Brittany’s legs. 

“You go,” Brittany orders, hands still wrapped in dark hair. 

Santana smiles at the gentle downward pressure against her head. “I wish,” she says softly as she presses kisses across Brittany’s collarbone, then lower and lower. She swirls her tongue around a nipple, biting lightly and smiling when Brittany’s hip jerk up into her. “I wish you’d let me take your skirt off.” 

“I wish you’d let me let you,” Brittany gasps out as Santana runs her tongue down the line of muscle on her abdomen. 

Santana just chuckles, and reaches up to pull the zipper of Brittany’s skirt down, hooking her fingers in the waistband and waiting for Brittany to lift her hips up so she can pull it down, spanks and all. 

There are a thousand things she wants to say as she glances up at Brittany’s face -  _you’re gorgeous, I love you, you make me happy, marry me_  - but she presses her mouth to Brittany’s thigh, just above the knee, to stop any words from coming out. Now is really not the time for her to sob out confessions like a lovesick loser. 

Closing her eyes, she takes a breath and trails kisses up Brittany’s legs, smiling when Brittany’s hands tug her hair. She goes with the tug until she’s hovered over Brittany, cradled between her legs. 

“Hi,” Brittany says. “How are you?” 

It’s a weird thing to say, but Brittany’s said weirder so Santana just laughs, shrugs. “Pretty good,” she says, her voice thick with want. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yup.” It’s not a lie. She’s halfway to naked on top of a gorgeous blonde. She’s good.

It’s just all this insistent emotion beating against her chest that she still, against all reason, is terrified of letting out. It’s like standing next to a locker all over again, her hands wringing together and even though Brittany’s naked under her, staring up at her with perfect blue eyes, Santana can’t help the way fear of rejection thrums through her. 

Brittany’s legs squeeze Santana’s hips a bit, her right foot trailing down Santana’s calf. “I wish,” Brittany says, a long finger tracing the line of Santana’s cheek. “I wish you’d stop holding back.” 

“I’m not,” Santana says, propping up on one hand so the other can run reassuringly up Brittany’s side. “Swear.” 

“You have that look like you really want to say something, but you’re not.” 

Santana shrugs. “Really not into talking right now.” She rocks her hips down, lets her hand palm Brittany’s breast to prove her point, smiling when Brittany’s mouth drops open a little, a noisy breath escaping. 

“You can tell me stuff. Just because I’m your girlfriend now doesn’t mean I’m not still your best friend.” 

It’s probably comical the way Santana’s eyes widen at hearing that. It’s one thing to say they’re dating, that they go on dates, it’s one thing to pay for dinners and open doors and hold hands when no one is watching, but it’s a completely different thing to hear a word like  _girlfriend._

Concern shrouds Brittany’s face. “Did I say something wrong?” 

Santana laughs, shakes her head and says, “Not at all,” before pressing her lips against Brittany’s until they’re both giggling between kisses.

A whispered  _I love you_  beats warm breath against Santana’s mouth and it stops all motion. Her chest twists violently, and her stomach flips over, and she pulls back to look down at Brittany through watery eyes. Seriously she has got to stop reacting to every little stupid thing like this. 

“Are you crying?” 

“Just happy,” Santana says with a laugh. 

Brittany runs her fingers over Santana’s cheekbones lightly. “You keep crying when you’re happy. Did no one ever tell you that you’re supposed to smile?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Mean,” Brittany replies, but she’s making this adorable expression caught between a glower and a smile, so Santana just laughs again. 

“I’m serious, there is just a lot of talking and I love you, but I’d really like to get down right now.” 

Santana doesn’t wait for Brittany to reply, just shifts down the bed to resume her earlier position and puts her mouth back on Brittany’s leg, moving it upward until it’s finally against hot flesh. 

There’s something intoxicating about the way Brittany gasps when Santana’s tongue strokes out, the way her hips jerk against Santana’s mouth seeking more friction. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the way it feels to pull a long strangled moan out of this girl. 

Brittany’s legs hook over Santana’s shoulders, and Santana pushes up a little to spread her wider, sucking her clit as she moves her left hand to slide a finger inside her, slipping another one in after a few moments. 

When Brittany peaks, her grip tightens painfully in Santana’s hair, her hips pressing up and thighs trembling. Santana doesn’t stop, keeps her fingers moving in and out, her tongue lapping quickly against Brittany’s clit until Brittany’s gasping more harshly, her hips jerking violently against Santana’s mouth. She doesn’t let up until Brittany starts whispering softly, but insistently, “Stop, I can’t, stop.” 

Santana laughs, and presses one last kiss to soaked flesh before pulling her fingers out and moving back up the bed. 

There’s a flush in Brittany’s face, her breath coming in short pants, but she’s smiling and Santana can’t stop herself from wishing this moment would never end. She strokes hair off of Brittany’s forehead and smiles, waits silently for Brittany to catch her breath even as arousal pulses in her core. 

It doesn’t take Brittany that long and soon enough she’s grabbing Santana by the back of her head and rolling them over gracefully, their lips pressing together. Brittany licks inside Santana’s mouth and the pressure at the base of her spine, the one pooling heat between her legs starts to thrum through the rest of her body. When Brittany fits her leg in between Santana’s, runs nails lightly down the Santana’s side, she groans into their kiss. They both fumble to get Santana’s skirt off, laughing against each other at their haste. 

Soon, but not soon enough by Santana’s standards, skilled fingers are dancing down her abs, sliding between her legs and pushing inside her. Her head snaps back against the pillow, and Brittany’s lips attach to her neck as her fingers thrust in and out, curling and pushing. 

“Faster,” she gasps out when Brittany’s thumb starts to rub lazy circles on her clit. 

Brittany complies, smiling against the skin under Santana’s jaw and moves her hand faster, every feeling in Santana’s body shooting to her groin. 

She comes fast and hard, breath panting nosily out of her mouth and her fingers gripping tightly to Brittany’s arms. 

“I wish,” Brittany says as Santana’s gulping air into her lungs. “I wish that we’ll do this forever.” 

Santana doesn’t trust words, just kisses Brittany as hard as she can and nods. She thinks about the wish board across the room and smiles against Brittany’s mouth. 

\--

Later when afternoon sunlight is fading into nighttime and they’re lounging in bed, Santana enjoys the simple pleasure of being quiet, of running her fingers up the warm skin of Brittany’s back and the way Brittany’s smiling at her. 

“What are you thinking about?” Santana whispers, tracing Brittany’s spine lightly. 

Brittany’s on her stomach, arms stretched underneath her pillow. “I’m still sad that Rory isn’t a lepurchaun.” 

It’s hard not to roll her eyes. Another guy’s name isn’t exactly the thing she wants to hear out of her girlfriend’s lips when they’re in bed together. “Why’s that?” 

A hand creeps out from under Brittany’s pillow and moves to trace over Santana’s face, Brittany’s mouth turning up a little as she shrugs. “I just have other wishes I’d like to make.” 

“I think I just proved we don’t need a leprechaun for that,” Santana replies, voice warm with satisfaction. 

It gets the reaction she’s looking for. Brittany’s tongue darts out quickly to wet her lips, and her eyes flicker down to Santana’s mouth. “True...” 

“What are the other wishes?” Santana spreads her palm out over the skin of Brittany’s back and slides it up across soft skin until it’s tangling in blonde hair, twisting the strands around her fingers lightly. 

“Secret,” Brittany whispers. 

Santana chuckles affectionately, kisses her quickly just because she can. “There are other things to make wishes on you know.” 

“I’m not pulling all my eyelashes out just to make wishes.” 

Santana laughs again. “Not just that.” 

“Like what?” 

Shrugging, Santana purses her lips for a second. “Birthday candles, dandelions, stars...” 

“Stars?” 

“Yeah, haven’t you ever wished upon a star?” 

“No, don’t think so.” 

“Get dressed.” It’s probably the first time Santana’s ever ordered Brittany to do this while in bed, and Brittany’s confused amusement says as much. “Trust me,” she adds with a wink. She smacks her on the ass because it always makes Brittany laugh, and leaps out of bed, heading towards the closet to throw on the first pair of sweatpants she finds, and tug a sweatshirt over her head. 

There’s a stack of Brittany’s clothing on the top shelf, so she pulls it towards her and throws some sweats and a long sleeved shirt towards the bed. 

Brittany’s still lying there, tangled in the sheets and looking completely inviting. “Come on, Britt, let’s go.” 

“But I’m naked,” Brittany pouts, and okay, Santana’s plan is sounding considerably less desirable against that argument. She has to shake her head a little, chuckling. 

“How about this? I  _wish_  you would get out of bed, get dressed and follow me,” she jokes, holding her hand out. 

Brittany laughs, but she doesn’t hesitate before putting her palm against Santana’s and letting herself get pulled out of bed. 

\--

They drive south straight out of Lima until street lights are a distant memory. There’s nothing but farmland this far out. Santana pulls onto this beaten road and parks the car next to an abandoned grain silo. 

“Creepy,” Brittany whispers, taking in the dilapidated structure, the big red barn next to it, chipped pain and sunken roof. 

Santana laughs before opening her car door and jumping out, pulling a blanket out of her back seat. She holds her hand out and waits for Brittany to come around the car and take it. They huddle together against the chill night air, and walk towards the towering oak tree not too far away. 

Looking up, Santana smiles. “You can see the stars better out here.” 

They settle down on the blanket with a good view of the night sky through the nearly bare branches of the tree. Shoulder to shoulder, they’re both silent for a few seconds. Santana takes a moment to enjoy what it feels like to be this far removed from society, to have such a clear view of the stars and to not have to restrain herself from kissing this girl lying next to her. She sits up and does just that, pecks quick kisses across Brittany’s lips before settling back on the blanket. 

Brittany turns a little to face her. “Did you just want to kiss me underneath the stars?”

“Maybe.” 

Brittany smiles. “Kay. So why aren’t you still?” 

Santana laughs. “In a second. We’re here to make wishes on stars. Like I was talking about earlier.” 

“Stars are really just holes to heaven,” Brittany says sagely after a few more seconds of silence. 

“Doesn’t mean they don’t grant wishes.” 

Brittany looks at her like she’s an idiot, so Santana just rolls her eyes and points a finger towards the sky. “Make a wish.” 

“Can I make a wish on all of them?” Brittany asks. 

“You can do whatever you want.” 

Santana watches as Brittany’s eyes scan the sky for a few seconds before closing tightly, her whole face scrunched in concentration. 

“Make them good,” Santana whispers. 

“Shhhh.” 

She muffles her laughter with her hand and waits for her girlfriend to finish, eyes opening and head turning towards Santana. 

“Do you think my wishes will actually come true?” 

Santana reaches out and grabs Brittany’s hand, their fingers intertwining warmly as she looks at her girlfriend with a soft smile. “I hope so,” she says with a simple shrug. 

“Aren’t you gonna wish too?” 

“Duh.” Santana winks at her before turning up to the sky, shutting her eyes and letting every stupid thing she’s ever wanted flicker through her brain. When she opens her eyes it’s to clear blue ones looking down at her and the image isn’t that different from the ones she was seeing just seconds before. 

If there’s a word for the way it feels with Brittany looks at her, Santana doesn’t know what it is. Happiness just doesn’t seem strong enough. 

“Hope yours come true too,” Brittany whispers, leaning over Santana’s chest. 

She reaches up to push some hair over Brittany’s ear, her palm resting on Brittany’s cheek. “You know what?” 

“What?” 

“They kind of already are.” 

Brittany scrunches her nose up at that, and laughs before pressing a lingering kiss on Santana’s cheek. “I love you.” 

Santana grins, this wide and free smile that feels like it might break her face and repeats the words, pulling Brittany down into a deeper kiss. 


End file.
